


On the Road to the Shrine

by WardenCommanderCousland



Series: The Light in the Shadow [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, My First Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenCommanderCousland/pseuds/WardenCommanderCousland
Summary: Cullen and the Inquisitor spend a night together on the road to the Shrine of Dumat.





	On the Road to the Shrine

Cullen planned to meet with the Inquisitor’s party at Griffon Wing Keep. The Inquisitor promised to bring him with her when they went to find Samson at the Shrine of Dumat, and it was time.

He was anxious to be near her again. She’d slipped out, as she always did, the morning she told him she loved him. He’d relived that moment over and over in his mind, the early morning light streaming behind her, casting a soft halo around her face. The way her silky black hair brushed his face when she kissed him. The feel of her skin pressed against him as they made love.

And then she’d left, off to make contact with a band of Dalish in the Exalted Plains, and he hadn’t seen her since. One of Leliana’s scouts brought word that they were moving towards the Western Approach, with plans to go to the Shrine from there.

So here he was, waiting atop one of the Keep’s towers, absently nodding his head in response to Knight-Captain Rylen’s reports on the Venatori activity in the region and the progress on the bridges over the sulfur pits. He raised a hand over his eyes, shading them from the brutal western Orlesian sun, and scanned the horizon. Soon enough, a small team of horses approached from the south. The Iron Bull’s horned silhouette heralded their arrival before he could pick out any other forms.

“The Inquisitor is here!” a soldier cried. Cullen moved along the ramparts to a ladder that would take him down, pressing through the flurry of activity at the main gate. Bull was waving his arms in grand sweeping motions, elaborating on the size of something to anyone within earshot.

Inquisitor Adair Lavellan handed her bow and quiver to a nearby soldier and dismounted the horse. She handed its reins off to the keep’s stablehand and wiped her face. The sweat was intermingled with dust and what smelled like the explosive powder Three-Eyes set in his traps.

“What happened?” Cullen asked as he drew near her. He saw Cassandra insisting she could untack her horse herself as she was approached by the stablehand, and Dorian pushing her aside to hand off his own mount. All of the party had clearly seen battle; there were scorches on their armor.

Adair pushed her hair off her face and grimaced at the sweaty texture. “There’s an Orlesian researcher looking for a high dragon. We found it.”

“And it was magnificent!” Bull said as he passed. “You’re the best, boss.”

“So you keep telling me,” the Inquisitor said, turning back to Cullen. She waved off Knight-Captain Rylen and headed towards the keep. She began unbuckling her breast plate and frowned when she realized one of the straps was nearly burned through. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a bath before we set out again.”

It was several hours before the Inquisitor’s party was ready to depart for the Shrine of Dumat. The sun was low in the sky when they left and they hadn’t ridden for more than a few hours when the team decided to make camp.

Cullen hadn’t built his own tent in some time and found himself struggling to keep it staked. He heard a soft laugh from behind him. “Let me help you,” the Inquisitor said, kneeling to adjust the rope tied to the nearest stake.

While she fixed his tent, Cullen turned to survey the campsite behind him. “There are only three tents.”

“Yes?” Adair stood and admired her handiwork. “There are only five of us in the party.”

There was a faint link of pink still in the sky, and most of the light illuminating the camp was from the fire Dorian had set. Cullen turned back to the Inquisitor. “I’m just…surprised. I know Cassandra likes her space, and Dorian and Bull—“

“Are together,” Adair finished. “They have been for some time.” She ran her hand across the canvas of Cullen’s tent, smoothing it.

Glancing back at him, the Inquisitor went on. “I never slept alone with my clan, not until the Keeper sent me to Haven. It’s less lonely with Cassandra, and more efficient. There’s less to pack in case we need to move quickly.”

The small camp settled in around them. Cullen joined Cassandra next to the fire, borrowing her whetstone to sharpen his own sword. He’d been delinquent in caring for it since the flight from Haven, but he wanted to be ready for whatever they might face in their search for Samson. The Inquisitor sat on the ground in front of him, her shoulder occasionally grazing his leg as she restrung her bow and built new traps. Every mine she assembled was passed to Dorian to enchant. The Iron Bull oiled the handle on his battle axe and ran a cloth over the fuller – the “blood groove” Cullen had heard the soldiers begin to say.

He felt as though he was intruding, that their evenings weren’t typically this quiet. He knew from Leliana’s reports that they would stop in at Inquisition encampments whenever possible, sending news and updates to Skyhold, but what did they do when they were alone on the road?

Finally, Cassandra made a non-committal comment about wanting to read before her watch, and Dorian and Bull slipped away, leaving Cullen and the Inquisitor alone in front of the fire.

“Is it always like this?” Cullen asked quietly as Adair nestled the last of the mines into her pack.

She climbed up onto the rock where he was seated. “Normally everyone’s a bit louder, but we’re tired today. Bull usually has some story about Seheron or Qunandar, especially about the tamassrans if he’s trying to make Cassandra blush. They also compare war stories or go over tactics. Dorian likes to gossip and shares anything he picked up from the scouts.”

Cullen ached to put his arm around her, but maintained the small distance between them, in case someone was watching. “What have they said since you’ve been here?”

The Inquisitor turned her head to look at him, her green eyes partially hidden by her fringe. “Apparently, the Inquisition’s Commander is very distracted lately.”

“Really?” Cullen asked. A flush crept across his face and he was grateful for the dim firelight. He composed himself. “We’ve been very busy, bringing the Wardens into the Inquisition and training new recruits, as well as supporting camps and forts all over Ferelden and Orlais.”

“I don’t think that’s what they’re getting at.” Adair trailed her left hand over Cullen’s own. A faint green light passed over his fingers as the anchor flickered. He’d assumed that the anchor had stopped showing itself once the Breach had closed, but Corypheus appeared to have done something to it to cause it to glow constantly.

She was so close to him, and while their relationship hadn’t been secret since Halamshiral—had never really been a secret, thanks to the lieutenant walking in on them that day on the ramparts—he still preferred to keep it private. He’d wanted nothing else but to be near her, to touch her, to hold her, to love her, and now he had to hold himself back. He could smell the soap she’d used in her bath, intermingled with the campfire, and his skin felt like it was charged, begging to pull closer to her. He turned his head towards her and there she was, her face nearly touching his. He inched towards her and--

“Oh, for the love of the Maker, go to bed,” Cassandra said suddenly. Cullen and the Inquisitor jumped apart, looking away from each other. Cullen’s face flushed again, burning this time with such ferocity he knew he’d never be able to blame it all on the fire. The Seeker threw a blanket down on the grass, sitting right in front of Dorian and Bull’s tent. “Find something else to watch,” she said in response to the protesting whine from within. She opened her book and pointedly ignored Cullen and the Inquisitor.

Abashed, Cullen rose from the rock and entered his tent. He had barely begun to unclasp his greatcoat when he realized Lavellan had followed him. “Let me,” she whispered, reaching her hands to meet his.

Cullen opened his mouth in protest but was silenced with the kiss Cassandra had cut off earlier. Adair’s tongue grazed his lips as she took over, deftly loosening the buckles on Cullen’s coat, revealing the muslin shirt beneath. She raised her hands to cradle his head and pulled herself closer, pressing up against him.

“We should stop,” Cullen said, his voice catching. “Cassandra—“

“Is keeping watch.”

Cullen reached up to unclasp her hands, though a yearning deep down within him raised a silent protest. “She’s right outside.”

The Inquisitor reached back and adjusted the tent’s front flaps, extinguishing what little light crept through. “Cassandra has a lover of her own, and it’s not like she’s reading _The Illuminated Sermons of Divine Galatea.”_

“What?” Cullen dropped his hands and stared at the Inquisitor.

She tugged at the leather thong that held her braid in place, shaking out her hair into a long, black sheet. “She’s got the latest volume of Varric’s smut, and she had her needs attended to back at the keep. Cassandra isn’t going to say anything.”

Cullen tried to think of another reason to stop her, though he was running out of desire to keep her from continuing her ministrations. “What if we’re attacked?”

“Again, Cassandra is on watch and Dorian will likely set anyone who attacks us on fire, giving us time to dress and arm.” Adair turned away. “Unless you want me to leave,” she said quietly. She began to open the front of the tent again.

Cullen reached out, grabbing her arm. “Stay,” he said huskily. He tugged the silk sash holding the Inquisitor’s coat in place, letting the fabric fall to the tent’s canvas floor, and slid the great bear leather from her shoulders.

Adair knelt to remove her boots, pausing to kiss Cullen’s hip. He let out an involuntary groan as she moved away and reached down to stroke her hair. It slipped like water through his hands and he caught his finger on the pointed tip of her ear. He knew she was self-conscious in their relationship, being an elf, but it had never mattered.

When she stood up again, Cullen had already kicked off his own boots. He pulled Adair against him again, kissing her with a newfound hunger. She loosened his belt and tugged his shirt free. Cullen flinched briefly as her hands slid onto the bare skin at his waist, but the shock of the cold was momentary.

“We should lie down,” the Inquisitor said quietly. She nodded towards Cullen’s bedroll and broke apart from him to untie the drawstring holding her leggings in place.

Cullen was torn between wanting to stop her, to undress her himself, and watching as the elf shed what little lay between him and what felt like endless reaches of soft, pale flesh beneath. He’d learned the first time they were together that the freckles on her face also dotted her arms and legs, but her torso was comparatively unblemished.

Suddenly, she was naked before him, reflecting slightly green in the glow of the anchor, and he realized that he was still clothed. The Inquisitor crossed her arms and hunched slightly against the cold, and Cullen pulled the wool blanket from his bedroll and wrapped it around her. He then made quick work of his own shirt and breeches and lay down on the roll, beckoning her to join him.

Adair climbed onto his lap, resting just above his growing length, letting the blanket fall across Cullen’s legs. She bent down to kiss him again and Cullen wrapped his arms around her, tugging at the blanket until the woven wool covered everything but their heads and shoulders, blocking out the breeze.

The Inquisitor stretched out her legs and lay down on him fully, tangling her feet with his own, never once breaking free from the kiss. Cullen let his hands roam, tracing the soft fullness of her breast, the slight curve of her hip bone, the muscle framing her ass. His need grew greater with every second that she was on top of him, and his breath caught when she lifted her hips slightly to let him slip between her legs.

“Please,” Adair whispered, rubbing herself across Cullen’s swollen member. He responded by kissing her again, nipping her lip as he slid inside her. Like the first time, Cullen relished the heat of her core, every wall pressing against him, clinging as he began to thrust slowly. She rocked her hips slowly, her rhythm matching his own. Cullen grasped her hips, trying to control the rustling of the blanket. Catching his intention, Adair pushed it off them entirely, letting the cold air rush between their bodies.

Cullen slipped his hand towards her center and began to stroke his thumb across the tiny nub of flesh hidden there. Soon enough, the elf’s grip on him, both her hands and her sex, tightened and she stifled a gasp into his shoulder. With a self-satisfied chuckle, he rolled Adair onto her back and quickened his pace, trailing kisses across her neck and collarbone as he reached his own climax.

They separated, but kept curled together, their sweat soon cooling in the night air. Rustling outside indicated a change in the watch.

“Did you want to go back to your tent?” Cullen whispered, though he was fairly confident of the answer. He pulled the wool blanket over the both of them, shielding their warm bodies from the chill.

The Inquisitor stirred slightly, but the flickering glow of the anchor was the only response he got. She was already asleep.


End file.
